It’s not uncommon for members of the More Than Than Our Crimes network to be sent to various county jails by the U.S. Marshals Service when they need to appear in court, either because they are fighting their conviction, petitioning for release or because the receive a new charge while inside. And while the federal prison is subjected to some oversight – albeit poor – jail stays while under US Marshals supervision are more like a black box. Here, Bill lifts the veil.
The journey to and from the Southern District of Indiana was horrendous, and affirmed my observation that, in this country, no prisoners are subjected to more abuse than pre-trial detainees — ironically those who are presumed innocent. My travel itinerary was as follows:
May 11: airlift from FCI Cumberland to the Grady County, Oklahoma, jail.
May 12: airlift from Grady County to the Grayson County, Kentucky, Detention Center.
May 20: van from Grayson County to the federal courthouse in Indianapolis, then the Delaware County jail in Muncie, Indiana.
July 7: van from Delaware County to the federal courthouse then Grayson County.
July 17: van from Grayson County to the Pike County, Kentucky, Detention Center.
July 22: van from Pike County to the Greenbrier, West Virginia, airport, then a bus to the FCI Cumberland SHU, where I was held because of lack of bed space in the general population.
July 27: finally released from the SHU.
Of these, the Delaware County Jail was the most violently-out-of-control facility I have ever been housed in. While there, awaiting a civil trial which I had already partially won, I repeatedly had to fight off attacks from people who seemed to be suffering from severe mental illness. During one fight with a 6’6″, very muscular individual who attacked me for no reason at 5:30 a.m. during the call for breakfast, I hit my head on a metal toilet and suffered a concussion. I have filed suit over this. It is possible that this individual was deliberately put into a cell with me because I was corresponding with an ACLU attorney who is suing the Sheriff’s Office in the area, and assisted the organization in obtaining an order against the jail. Why else would this person, who had broken his girlfriend’s neck and attempted to kill his family 12 days earlier and had been attacking every person he saw in the jail, be put in my cell at 11 p.m. – right after I’d taken my sleeping medication?
Beyond this out-of-control violence, some of the abysmal conditions I witnessed and experienced include:
Filth
All of the jails, except Grayson County, were filthy – many with crusted fluids along the bottoms of most walls and in the corners. Delaware County also served food on trays coated with a film that you could scrape it with a fingernail. Yet hundreds of people transit through them on their way elsewhere.
Overcrowding
At all of the Kentucky jails I travelled to, about one third of the inmates were sleeping on the floor (likely because the Sixth Circuit has ruled that there is no Constitutional right to a raised bed!). At Grayson County, this meant there were as many as 21 prisoners in a unit designed for 15. At Pike County, they housed 14 or 15n in a unit designed for 12. Prisoners sleeping on the floor meant there was essentially no dayroom and nowhere to walk around during the day, leading to unhealthy forced inactivity.
Lack of Sunlight
Only Grayson County provided prisoners with adequate sunlight; there were windows in every dorm that allowed sunlight in. Despite an Indiana law mandating access to sunlight for prisoners, Delaware County was the worst – very much like living in a cave. There was no outdoor recreation area and no windows in the “pods.” There was literally no sunlight or windows anywhere in the jail. Pike County had the smallest and dingiest units, but at least allowed outdoor rec twice a week. Grady County only has one inadequate window to the outside in each 30-man dorm.
Lights and Sleep
Delaware County seemed to have a strict policy forbidding prisoners from sleeping. The pods and cells were artificially lit 20 hours a day, with lights off only from midnight to 4 a.m. As described below, razors for shaving were only distributed at 4 a.m. Breakfast was at 5. Pods were open until 11 at night. And, often, right after delivering my sleeping medication, the jail would announce a “shakedown” or “fire drill” on my pod. Like everything at Delaware County, it seemed intended to disorient and discomfort presumptively innocent people, presumably to render them less able to defend themselves in court.
Hygiene
All of these jails seemed intent on keeping prisoners filthy. At Grayson, I was issued one, one-quarter ounce bar of soap, and no more was issued no matter how long you stayed in the jail. Delaware County issued a one-ounce bar of soap once every two weeks. Pike County issued four ounces of liquid soap weekly. None of this was adequate to keep a person reasonably clean, particularly someone who exercises daily, as I do.
Clothing
None of these jails issued adequate clothing, which I would define as a uniform and two sets of underwear. However, only Grady County issued underwear. The other three jails simply allowed prisoners to retain the underwear they wore in (if it is white). Pike County allowed colored underwear. Grayson sold prisoners one set of underwear on arrival if they didn’t have any, while Delaware County forced prisoners without white underwear to go without. If you search “white underwear” policies in a law library, you will find that they have been declared un-Constitutional. None of these jails seemed to care.
Medical
At Pike County, the private medical contractor, Southern Health Partners, Inc, refused to provide me with my medication, and did so in defiance of written instructions from both the U.S. Marshals Service and the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Indiana.
Religious meals
I do not eat meat for religious reasons. Only Grady County and Grayson respected this. Staff at Delaware County spent 12 days arguing that the only religious option they offered was kosher. Finally, they gave in. Pike County simply ignored my request until I left.
Access to mail
Grayson County refused to deliver my newspapers and magazines as part of a “paperless” policy – a practice that has been ruled un-Constitutional wherever it has been challenged. Delaware County had just lost a lawsuit to the ACLU over its own “paperless jail” policy, yet refused to comply with a court order to post a notice for the jail population. None of the jails provided prisoners with writing materials, mailing materials or stamps on intake. Delaware County provided indigent prisoners with three stamped envelopes a week; none of the other jails provided us with any of these things. Delaware County also banned pens and forced all prisoners to write to the courts with a golf pencil.
Access to the courts
Delaware County also has a policy of only allowing prisoners to attend legal proceedings or attorney visits, including video proceedings, while in shackles. However, there is no justification when a visit is by video.
Commissary
The lack of supplied necessities seemed to be designed to create demand for commissary items, which are sold at prices three to four times higher than even BOP prisons. A single Ramen noodle soup at Grayson, for instance, was $2.50, versus 55 cents in the BOP and about 27 cents at Walmart. At Delaware County, it was $1.50; at Pike County, about $1.10. A bar of Irish Spring or Dove soap ran $4 to $6, versus three for $4.75 (for Irish Spring) in the BOP. A 3 ounce bag of Keefe coffee was $11-$12 at Grayson County and Delaware County; its equivalent was about $8 at Pike County. This is versus $3.55 in the BOP. An 8 oz bag of Doritos is $3.25 in the BOP; a 1 oz bag was about $3.25 at Grayson and Delaware County. Needless to say, there was very little healthy food available.
Tablets
Delaware County issued tablets to all prisoners, which was interesting for me, as I have never used one before. These tablets, however, were also largely designed as a money trap. They did have some interesting free material on them — a FastLaw law library, Khan Academy and Project Gutenberg, which meant that I didn’t have to buy any books while there. But, a lot of the free stuff, such as the “recovery” materials for drug addicts, or the “parenting” and other self-help content, were just cheap one-pagers that looked like they had been thrown together so that the jail could claim they offered such material. The real purpose of the tablets seemed to be to get people to pay 5 cents a minute to listen to the radio (no other radios were sold), play games, watch movies, etc. And, almost all of the tablets were hacked, which meant that they were primarily used by the prisoners to access the internet and download YouTube videos on how to commit crimes, pornography, the case files of other prisoners, and other things that were not conducive to rehabilitation, to put it mildly.
My take
These jails were all vicious money traps. Basic services, which should be provided for free to prisoners so they can maintain their health and participate in the legal process, were either denied or so minimally they were ineffective. Meanwhile, very expensive garbage was sold to make up for the deficiencies. This business model of running jails as a for-profit venture has been a hallmark of Republican politics for decades now. It should be no surprise that they are all in “deep red” areas of the country.
With the recent talk of privatizing various BOP functions, I am concerned that this kind of exploitation is going to come to the BOP. The experience of being in these pits has actually made me thankful to be back in the BOP!
